Nick Cleveland and the Littlest Ravenclaw
by Technomad
Summary: Ravenclaw's sneakiest, in charge of a baby? Chaos and the unexpected are to be expected! Set in J.L. Matthews' Slytherin Rising AU continuity, in Harry Potter's third year.


Nick Cleveland and the Littlest Ravenclaw

by Technomad

There were a few Eternal Verities at Hogwarts. Mr. Filch would always be disagreeable. The Slytherins would never be friends with the Gryffindors. Professor Binns would always be the most boring teacher in the school. And, last but never least, nobody was _ever_ late with impunity in Transfiguration.

That being the case, when Nick Cleveland breezed into Transfiguration, his first class of the morning, a good fifteen minutes late, it was reasonable enough for his classmates to expect him to be For It. Pausing by his usual seat next to his girlfriend, Melinda Yang, to put down his gear, he went up to Professor McGonagall, who was giving him a stare that a basilisk would have been proud to call its own.

"Sorry I'm late, ma'am. Please read this note before you do anything." With a puzzled expression, Professor McGonagall opened the folded sheet of parchment Nick handed to her.

"Hmmm…it says that you may be late to classes today, due to unavoidable circumstances, and it's signed by the headmaster. Very well, Mr. Cleveland," she sighed, handing him back the note, "I can't take any points from Ravenclaw. However, _if_ you will deign to sit down, we can continue with our class. I'm sure Miss Yang will share her notes."

For about the next fifteen minutes, things went routinely, as Professor McGonagall explained the principles of plant-to-plant transfiguration. A loud gurgle interrupted her, and she stopped, looking up suspiciously.

"What was that?" she asked. The answer was another gurgle, even louder. Apologetically, Nick Cleveland raised his hand.

"Terribly sorry, ma'am, but duty calls." Reaching down under his desk, he came up with what looked, at first, to be a bundle of cloth with big blue eyes. He unwrapped it carefully, and it turned out to be a baby. A gasp went around the room.

"What…is _that_?" asked Professor McGonagall, her voice a startled squeak. Nick looked up, bland and unreadable.

"_That_ is a _baby_, Professor McGonagall. To be precise, my cousin Thorkil. His parents are here for a magical conference in Hogsmeade, and since I took care of him all last summer holidays, they figured I could just sort of mind him while they attend the conference." Little Thorkil was sitting up now, looking around the room with a big, beaming smile. "He likes to feel like he's part of the human race, too. He just wanted to see what was going on."

At this, decorum was more-or-less abandoned, as everybody crowded around the desk to see the baby more closely. Coos and sighs were punctuated by questions, as Nick's classmates examined little Thorkil. Professor McGonagall was there, too, having appeared in front of Nick's desk so quickly as to make Apparition look rather slow and crippled.

"Oh, he's so _cute_!"

"Look at that smile!"

"Is he magical?"

At this last, Nick nodded vigorously. "Sure is. When he wasn't more than a couple of months old, I was watching him one day, and he levitated straight out of his cot." Everybody laughed as Nick went on: "I had my wand right by my hand, and I just watched---if he'd looked like he was going to fall, I could Levitate him back easily enough. As it was, he floated back on his own."

"May I hold him?" asked Professor McGonagall, more diffidently than anybody present had ever heard her speak. At Nick's nod, she scooped Thorkil up and held him close, smiling broadly. "Och, what a bonny braw wee laddie y'are, aren't ye?" Her accent had gone broad Scottish in a second, and she bounced Thorkil up and down gently, as he crowed with pleasure and Nick watched her like a hawk. "Come an' gie's a kiss for your Auntie Minnie!"

After that, all the girls and many of the boys wanted to hold the baby, and little Thorkil found himself being passed around the room, until he began to send up distress signals. The girl that was holding him, Petra Clancy, looked helplessly at Nick, who was standing right there. "Is he unhappy with me? I swear I wasn't doing anything bad…"

"Too right you weren't." Nick grinned mirthlessly. "If you had, believe you me you'd have heard from me about it." Heedless of Professor McGonagall's raised eyebrow, Nick went over to his bags, pulling out a small bag. "He's just hungry. And, it _just_ so happens I've the proper stuff for baby wizards right…_here_." He held up a baby's bottle filled with a clear liquid.

"Er, Mr. Cleveland, if he's hungry, he should have food." Professor McGonagall took the bottle and looked at it suspiciously. "This is water, not milk or formula."

"It's water now." Nick took the bottle back, and put it on the desk, as Melinda Yang held a whimpering Thorkil. "However, although this is not my strongest subject, I do think I've learned something here." He held up his wand. "Before I start a day of baby-watching, I first mix up a whole batch of formula. However, the stuff doesn't keep well. So-o-o, I Transfigure it into water, and when some baby-fuel's wanted, I take the enchantment off---_thus_!"

Pointing his wand at the bottle, he muttered "_Finite Incantatem_," and the water inside turned into baby formula. Scooping up Thorkil and settling the baby in his arms, Nick picked up the bottle and plugged it in, continuing: "I don't know what would happen if I just Transfigured water into formula or milk. This way, the 'natural form' of the liquid is formula, and any further magic in the vicinity won't hurt the baby."

Professor McGonagall looked reluctantly respectful. "I must say, Mr. Cleveland, you're ingenious. I'd never have thought of that approach. Ten points to Ravenclaw."

Nick grinned as he watched Thorkil draining his bottle. "As I say, I'm not much at Transfiguration, but I'd bet there's few who're better at getting the most mileage out of what they know than I am."

When Transfiguration class was over, Nick found himself enveloped in a group of girls, all cooing and smiling and making funny faces to amuse little Thorkil, as he proceeded down the corridors to his next class, which happened to be Potions.

Professor Snape showed no reaction to seeing Thorkil sitting up on the bench beside Nick's cauldron. Nick assumed that Professor McGonagall had given him a heads-up, and he could see why, although her own surprise and subsequent reaction had given him a great deal of pleasure.

"I see that we have a guest in our class today," drawled Professor Snape, once everybody had found seats. "Mr. Cleveland has brought his little cousin Thorkil along. I trust that our performances in class today will not permanently warp his developing mind; I am informed that early exposure to dunderheadedness can traumatise the infant psyche." His voice suddenly was full of silky menace as he went on: "And I should also mention that the production of unnecessary fumes today will earn my---_displeasure_. Not only is it the sign of a sloppy alchemist, but such fumes are known to have a deleterious effect on tiny new lungs. Should such fumes occur, the guilty parties _will_ find themselves cleaning up the messes Hagrid's pets leave; I may allow them to use shovels, instead of their bare hands, if I am in a sufficiently _jovial_ mood." Into the sudden silence, he said: "Shall we begin?"

Things went smoothly, for a change, in Potions. Everybody knew that Professor Snape would not tolerate them abandoning their class-work to gush over the baby, so they concentrated on their potions. Thorkil amused himself quietly, sitting on the floor near Nick and Melinda and playing with some floating, glowing magical balls that Nick conjured up to keep him occupied.

At the end of class, Nick was bundling up Thorkil along with his other gear when Professor Snape came up. "I must say, this is one of the more original things anybody's ever brought along to a class."

"How so, sir? Hogwarts is a school. A school is a place for children. Thorkil, here, _is_ a children, therefore he is not out of place." Nick held Thorkil up at eye-level, and the baby grinned happily and reached out for Professor Snape's nose. "In any case, ten or so years down the line you'll be seeing him again, I daresay."

"That might just be, Mr. Cleveland. You do seem to take care of him well." A rare smile crossed the Potions Master's face. "How did you enjoy your first acquaintance with nappy-changing?"

Nick grinned. "After my first few go-rounds with _that_, sir, I sat down and told myself: 'Self---I'm a Ravenclaw. What do Ravenclaws do when faced with a problem? We think of solutions!' I went to work, and between some careful modification of the _Scourgify_ charm, as well as some other charms, I invented the self-cleaning nappy!" Professor Snape's eyes opened wide as Nick went on: "It does eventually need changing, but only about one-tenth as often as standard nappies."

Professor Snape shook his head. "Have you thought of marketing it yet?"

Nick looked thoughtful. "No---but thank you for the idea, Professor. You know my motto---_pecunia non olet_."

"Yes---'money doesn't stink.' That is not a bad motto, Mr. Cleveland---and it shows that you did read Suetonius." Nick grinned suddenly, and Snape went on: "Unlike most of your classmates, who only read the lurid parts about Tiberius and his 'little fishes,' or Caligula and his sisters, or Nero."

"Oh, I read those too," Nick said, as he gathered up the baby and his gear. "After all---I wouldn't want people to think I was 'Nero-minded,' now would I, sir?"

Snape's eyes widened, and he sounded like he was suppressing a snicker. "Go on---be on your way. It's lunchtime. Be thankful I don't take a few points off Ravenclaw for that _atrocious_ pun!" As Nick left, he thought he overheard Snape muttering: "Now, when would be the best time to spring that one in the Faculty Common-Room, I wonder? And on whom? Trelawney's my favourite target, but she comes down there so seldom…"

When Nick, with Thorkil on his arm and Melinda behind him, came into the Great Hall for lunch, there was a reaction. The other Houses had heard, via friends in Ravenclaw, that Nick had his baby cousin with him for a stay, but this was the first time that any of them had seen the little fellow. As he passed the Slytherins' table to reach his usual seat at the Ravenclaw table, he found himself all but kidnapped by several of the Slytherin girls. He winked at Melinda to signal her that things were all right, and hopefully head off any pending explosions, as he sat down in the middle of a knot of Slytherins.

Luella Martin reached out for Thorkil, who came to her with a happy gurgle. "Oh, he's wonderful! What's he like---I mean, what's it like to be taking care of him?" As she held Thorkil close, Marlie Lovegood and Deanna Tyler crowded close, eyes wide and smiling.

Nick shrugged his shoulders. "Not as much trouble as I'd've thought, Luella. Babies his age mostly require a full bottle, a dry nappy and regular cuddling. Of course, even brand-new newborns have individual personalities, or so I am told. I'm fortunate that Thorkil, here, is one of the kind that likes everybody. That's because nobody's ever been mean to him---which, I might add, is how things are going to stay." There was a definite edge in his voice at that last statement, and his eyes suddenly looked like grey ice. Luella thought about what that might mean, and almost felt sorry for anybody who mistreated Thorkil---_almost_.

Marlie asked: "But---what about the gross parts? Like, dirty nappies, and spit-up?" A look of revulsion crossed her pretty face. "I mean, I like babies, but I just don't think I could stand that sort of thing!"

"Ah---you're more into the 'cuddling, cooing and spoiling them rotten' part of the deal, are you, Marlie?" Nick sounded quite amused, but not a bit surprised. "We-e-e-ll, first off, it's not that bad. I've had to deal with the results of a dozen drunken adults at once, back at the Forrest Guesthouse in Whitehaven over the summer hols. After you've had to clean up after twelve or so sots who've puked all over everything, many of whom have also forgotten that they were toilet-trained, one baby's no big deal." Marlie looked utterly repulsed, and Nick grinned. "I hope for the sake of any kids you have that you also have a handy house-elf."

"But why are you taking care of him?" Deanna was bored with the baby---she liked children, but only when they were able to talk---and was now watching Nick curiously. "I mean---no offence meant, I'm sure---but you hardly strike me as the sort of person one would find baby-minding."

Nick gave them a bland look. "So what _do _I look like, then? Blue blood? Royalty? Am I high nobility, to be able to avoid necessary chores?" As the girls giggled, he went on to explain: "When he was born, last summer, his parents weren't available for a lot of the time---his mum had a bad time of it, and spent a longish time in St. Mungo's, being put right. I was around, and they sort of handed him off to me. I kept at it, and he's a good baby to learn with---tolerant of my fumbling. He's here, now, because his parents are at a conference down in Hogsmeade and figured that with me nearby, they could just hand him off to me here."

"Speaking of handing him off---where'd he go?" asked Luella suddenly. She had put little Thorkil down on the table for a minute to serve herself some lunch, and when she looked up, he wasn't where he'd been put.

Nick went white with fear. "Oh, Freya's _tears_! Where _did _he go?" They looked around, and when Nick saw where the baby had gone, he went even paler. Thorkil had crawled down the Slytherin table, to the general amusement of the students, and was heading straight for where Crabbe and Goyle were sitting side-by-side. Nick's hand darted into his robes, coming out with his wand, as Luella, Marlie and Deanna drew theirs as well.

When Thorkil stopped by their place, Crabbe and Goyle both smiled at him welcomingly, and in a minute, they had forgotten their lunches---playing with the baby was far more interesting. Crabbe held the baby up high, making him crow with delight, while Goyle made funny faces and drew light-pictures in the air with his wand to amuse him. Both of them handled Thorkil with the assurance of long practice.

"I think I need to reclaim my cousin, boys," said Nick, who had come down to where they were sitting. "Sorry---I didn't mean to let him bother you."

"He isn't bothering us. Not one little bit!" said Goyle.

"We _have_ little brothers and sisters, you know. He puts me in mind of my littlest sibling," added Crabbe. Holding the baby close, he put his lips to Thorkil's stomach and made a burbling noise, which made Thorkil giggle. "That trick always works with them."

"Well---I must admit, I'd never have thunk it." Holding out his arms for Thorkil, Nick said: "Somehow, you two being good with babies never occurred to me."

"The same could be said about you, Mr. Cleveland," came a voice from behind Nick. Turning, Nick found himself staring into the eyes of Professor Dumbledore, who was standing behind him, with Hagrid looming over his shoulder and smiling at Thorkil. "I'm glad to see that you seem to deal with him so well. May I see him?"

Nick held out the baby, who went straight to Professor Dumbledore without a hint of fear. "Suit yourself, sir---but I think I should warn you. He's at the---"

"OUCH!"

"---_grabbing_-things stage. Especially _beards_. And I think I'd take off the glasses, too---he's discovered how to---"

"HEY!"

"---flip them off the wearer's nose in one move. Like---he---just---_did_." Nick took out his wand, which he'd stored away when he realised that Crabbe and Goyle meant Thorkil no harm. "_Accio_ spectacles!" Professor Dumbledore's glasses, the worse for a crack down one lens, flew into Nick's hand, and with a quick _Reparo_, he put them to rights. As Professor Dumbledore handed the baby over to Hagrid, who received him with a smile of pleasure, Nick handed Professor Dumbledore back his glasses.

"Terribly sorry, sir. I'd just put them in your pocket till you hand him back to me. He thinks that's some of the most fun in the world." Nick smiled reminiscently. "Just before heading back to school, I was all dressed up in the height of Muggle fashion---suit, tie, the whole silly thing---to go to a wedding in Whitehaven. I picked Thorkil up to show him my new clothes, and in a second, he'd figured out how to untie my tie."

"Oh, it's no problem, Mr. Cleveland," the headmaster assured Nick. "Did you really think that he was the first baby I've ever met? I've had children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren his age before. I'm delighted to see that you care for him so well.""

"As I told the Slytherins, sir---my attitude is more-or-less that it has to be done, and I'm certainly none too good to do it." Hagrid was holding the baby close, and Nick could see a look of longing in the half-giant's eyes. Nick had always felt sorry for Hagrid, and seeing the look of hopeless love on his face filled Nick with a blazing fury at the Fates for giving him such a lousy hand of cards to play out his life with_. It's a pity he is what he is_, thought Nick; _he'd make a wonderful father. That is, he'd make a wonderful father __**if **__whoever was the mother was willing to be the family disciplinarian_.

Dumbledore had seen the shadow pass over Nick's face. "I'm glad to see that you feel compassion for him," the headmaster muttered. Nick looked at Professor Dumbledore, his eyes wide---he hadn't realised that the headmaster could read his expression so well. He also wasn't too sure that he liked that idea.

"Yeah, I do." As Nick murmured back to Dumbledore, Hagrid was holding little Thorkil close, and Thorkil was trying to grab Hagrid's bushy beard. "He's good people---not too bright, but we can't all be Ravenclaws, after all. Melinda loves him---she thinks he has a touch of what she calls 'the Tao.' Even when he's drinking---some of China's greatest sages liked their drink." Nick grinned. "Taoist sages are often very close to nature, and many of them have a way with animals."

"Hagrid, a Taoist sage?" Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "I must say, I'd never have thought of that. I think that Miss Yang and I should sit down one of these days and have a _long _talk."

"Sounds like a good idea to me, sir," Nick said, accepting Thorkil back. "She reveres you---probably more deeply than you realise. Between your age and the fact that you're a teacher, you'd have very serious high status in traditional Chinese society. She'd love to have a talk with you, one-on-one."

That evening, Nick and Thorkil were in the Ravenclaw common room; Thorkil was happily crawling around the floor, surrounded by a gaggle of girls who watched his every move with squeals of delight. Nick kept a close eye on proceedings, while going over an essay Luna Lovegood had written.

"There, d'you see? You've put all the facts in, but your essay isn't organised at all. I've some books up in my school trunk about 'How To Write A Good Essay;' I bought them in a Muggle bookstore before I came here. I'll bring them down here, okay?"

"You should stay here and I'll go. You have your cousin to watch, after all." At Nick's raised eyebrow, Luna went on: "You don't like that idea?"

"No, Luna. That stuff is in the _boys'_ dorm." At her slightly non-plussed look, he explained: "And you, Luna, are a _girl_."

"Why should that matter?" asked Luna. Melinda Yang drifted over, visibly suppressing a smile. She had all but adopted Luna, and had calmed down considerably as a result. Even though she loved Nick to distraction, she was visibly looking forward to seeing him cope with Luna's slightly off-kilter view of reality.

"Well---what if you went up there, and some disgusting _guy_ was wandering around _with his clothes off_, and you _saw_ him?" Luna's eyes went a bit wider, as Nick went on: "_That_ would traumatise you so badly that your mind would short-circuit and your brain would melt, running out of your ears to make little puddles like dried candle-wax on both of your shoulders."

Luna thought about this, and shook her head. "I don't think it would do that. In any case, I'm willing to take the risk."

Nick thought fast. "Okay---even if it didn't bother you, it would probably bother him. After all, if some guy was wandering around in the girls' dorms and saw _you_ with your clothes off, you'd never recover, now would you?"

Luna smiled. "I think you are _exaggerating_, Nick Cleveland." She reached out and touched the tip of his nose. "I don't think that being seen without clothes would be all that traumatic, either for 'some guy' or for me. After all, you skinny-dip in the lake when you have a chance."

Nick rolled his eyes, as the girls, who had gathered around, giggled, and Melinda looked very innocent. "One lousy time I'm caught---_one time_---and I never hear the end of it."

Penelope Clearwater gave Nick a Look. "One time you're caught? Not 'the one time _I ever did it_, I'm caught?' I notice _just_ how you phrase things---ever since you tied the Slytherins in knots, I've listened carefully to anything you say." As the implications sank in, all the girls erupted in giggles, and Nick looked as bland and unreadable as he could.

Luna piped up: "In any case, I'm willing to take the chance. I'm not afraid. If I see some guy---I see him. I didn't spend a whole summer in Finland when I was ten without being exposed to mixed saunas."

Nick gave Melinda a look of appeal. "Melinda---this is _girl_ business. Could you please explain to Luna why her being in the boys' dorms is a Bad Idea, while I go find those books?" As Nick scampered up the stairs to his dorm, he heard another explosion of giggling, and he smiled to himself. _At least,_ he thought, _Melinda's rubbing along better with other girls, now that she has Luna to help her keep her temper_!

When he came back down, little Thorkil was yawning and obviously fighting to stay awake. Scooping the baby up, Nick said: "Okay, Luna, here's the books on how to write. I think it's time that _someone _went to bed."

As he headed toward the stairs, Pat Chisholm asked: "And where do you think you're taking the baby?"

"Up to bed, Pat. It's time for him to be asleep. I've rigged up a cot for him in my dorm room."

"But---couldn't he stay in our dorms?" asked Melinda. She gave the baby a longing look. "I'd love to take care of him." A chorus of pleas from the other girls backed Melinda's words.

Nick gave the girls a rueful look. "Look---I really, really appreciate how much you love him. Still and all, I promised I'd take care of him, and that was how we set things up. Besides, if he needs me in the night, I can't enter the girls' dorms. And if you came into _my_ dorm, you'd be traumatised forever."

"Oh, come now, Nick, you're exaggerating." Melinda gave him a mischievous grin. "We're not as innocent as you seem to think we are."

"Who said anything about that?" Nick raised his eyebrows. "If you saw what we call housekeeping, you'd have a permanent case of the galloping dark blue horrors."

"Much as I hate to admit it, girls---he has a point." Melinda grinned conspiratorially at the other girls. "His room at Whitehaven looks like what would happen if a hurricane hit a bookstore."

As Nick fled up the stairs, he heard: "Oh? And how would _you_ know about his room in Whitehaven, Melinda? Have you been doing things you shouldn't have?"

Melinda's voice was as cool and bland as though she were in Herbology class. "Whatever do you mean by that, Penny? If I do it, it's all right." Nick shook his head. All of a sudden, he wasn't quite so sure that inducing her to calm down and be on good terms with other girls was such a swell idea. Not if it meant them gathering to verbally dissect him whenever his back was turned!

The next morning, Nick rubbed his eyes and yawned. At first, he didn't notice anything wrong. Then it struck him. _Hey, did Thorkil sleep through the night?_ He looked over at the cot he'd set up, and felt like a gallon of icy water had been dumped down his back.

"_The baby's gone_!" His terrified scream roused all his roommates, who came boiling out of their beds to see for themselves. Sure enough, the cot was empty, and the nappy-bag that Nick had set nearby was also gone.

"Are you sure he didn't just get up and crawl off?" asked Will Marshall, one of his roommates.

"Not unless he took his nappy-bag along!" Nick was white as a sheet, but began snapping orders, as the rest of the Ravenclaw boys came running in. "You---you're a prefect! Go rout out Dumbledore and tell him the baby's missing! You're a prefect, too---go wake Flitwick! You---" pointing at Anthony Goldstein---"rouse Filch! I want this castle locked down as tight as a goblin's purse-strings!"

As the boys he'd pointed to ran out of the room, Nick turned to the others. "Will! Alert the portraits!" Will nodded, chewing on his lower lip, and ran out of the room. "Mike, I want you to find the Grey Lady---you're close to her. Tell her to tell all the ghosts that my baby cousin's been grabbed! One of them might have seen something!"

"Or it could have been Peeves," Mike suggested. Nick stared at him for a second, his face working with suppressed fury.

"If, by any wild chance, it was Peeves, I'll _personally_ exorcise him so hard that he'll be bouncing off _Mars_!" Mike turned pale and ran out as though the devil were after him.

Within minutes, all of the Ravenclaw boys were mobilized, and a thoroughgoing search of the castle was being initiated. With nothing more he could do, Nick sat down on a chair in the common-room and held his head, muttering: "I'm dead, I'm dead, I am so very, very, very dead, when his parents find out I let Sirius Black kidnap him after I promised to keep him safe they'll kill me…"

"What's the matter, Nicholas?" came a familiar voice. Nick turned to see Luna Lovegood looking at him, her silvery eyes wide with concern. "Is there something wrong?"

"Wrong? Yes! My cousin's been grabbed! That bloody Sirius Black did it, I'll be bound…"

"Uh, I wouldn't blame Sirius Black…at least not for this…" Melinda Yang's voice was unsteady, which was very unusual. Nick didn't look up at first; not until she went on: "Well, you see, the girls and I, we really liked the little fellow, and we thought that having him overnight in our dorm would be great fun…"

At this, Nick looked up at his girlfriend, giving her a stare that would have burned through stone. She shrank back slightly.

"Where is he?" Nick asked. His voice was very, very quiet.

"Here." Looking distinctly frightened, Cho Chang came forward. Sure enough, there was little Thorkil, cradled in her arms and looking perfectly content.

Nick stood up, his face pale with reaction. "Give me my cousin, please," he intoned, in the even, too-calm tones he only used when he was seriously angry. Once the baby was back with him, he checked Thorkil over. Dry nappies, not showing any signs of hunger---good. Thorkil giggled and grabbed for a lock of his hair that Nick imprudently let dangle close to his fingers, and Nick spent a few seconds gently untangling himself. When he'd satisfied himself that Thorkil was all right, he looked up at the Ravenclaw girls. They were all staring at him, even Melinda, eyes wide with fear. Still sounding utterly calm, he said: "I shall deal with all of _you_---_later_."

"No, you will not, Mr. Cleveland." Turning, Nick found himself faced by Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick. "This is out of your jurisdiction, however much you may feel that you are the injured party here," Flitwick continued. "The Headmaster and I shall see to any punishments your errant housemates have coming. _You_ are to keep out of it." Turning to the girls, he said: "Ladies---if you will accompany me and the Headmaster to my office?"

Before he left, Professor Dumbledore turned to Nick. "I must say, Mr. Cleveland, you're good at organizing a search, even when you must have been scared out of your wits. Ten points to Ravenclaw for clear thinking under pressure."

"Thank you, sir."

By this time, the boys Nick had sent out were back, and glad to see that it had been a false alarm. As Nick calmed down, he began to feel his old curiosity returning. "I wonder what he's saying to them?"

Anthony Goldstein looked reminiscent. "I'd say he's probably tearing big strips off them. Can't say I blame him."

"I'd love to know what he's saying." The wish was father to the deed; handing Thorkil off to Will Marshall, Nick catfooted over to the door of Flitwick's office and leaned close, cocking an ear to catch what was going on.

All of a sudden, he jumped back with a startled squawk. A mouth had appeared in the door, and was saying: "Mr. Cleveland, eavesdropping is a most _ill-bred_ habit. If you persist in this, it'll cost you a week's detention with Mr. Filch." The voice was very like Flitwick.

Nick sat back down and took Thorkil back, rocking him gently. "Well---guess that's _my_ eye on a plate, now isn't it?"

When the Ravenclaws came down for breakfast, everybody else noticed that the girls were looking distinctly subdued, and that Melinda, very unusually, was not accompanying Nick.

Over at the Slytherin table, Rianne Stormosi raised an eyebrow. "Looks like our friends the Nerds have had a falling-out among themselves." As she watched the Ravenclaws, her other eyebrow went up, and she nodded. "And 'falling-out' is the right word, it looks like---whatever happened must have been on the scale of an atomic explosion!"

As breakfast ended, Marlie noticed that Caitlin Tyler had appeared from somewhere, and was talking to Professor Snape. Slipping away, Marlie assumed her Animaga form, and crept close. She was as curious as the cat she'd become, and had already found out that Animagism was a wonderful way to snoop into places where she wasn't supposed to be---like the boys' shower rooms.

Snape was explaining: "---you see, Caitlin, it was a false alarm. Mr. Cleveland found his cousin had disappeared from his cot, and assumed that he'd been kidnapped. Before it was discovered that his female housemates had appropriated the baby, he had organised his roommates and alerted the headmaster, his House Head, and Mr. Filch to the situation." The Potions Master quirked a grin. "Professor Dumbledore was impressed with his clear thinking, even under pressure, and gave Ravenclaw House ten house points."

"He couldn't have known that the Aurors would be alerted, could he?" mused Caitlin. She chuckled ruefully. "And I can't honestly blame him for hitting the panic button---if Deanna had disappeared in the night, _I_'d have gone spare!"

By now, Marlie was perched on a nearby shelf, ostensibly napping. Someone who really knew cat body language would have known she was perfectly alert, but her eyes were nearly closed, and her ears twitched very seldom. She was already eager to return to the Slytherin girls' dormitories and tell her roommates about this latest development.

Not far away, Nick was supervising as Thorkil was being cooed over by a gaggle of Hufflepuff girls. After a few minutes, he noticed that he had company. Luna Lovegood was watching him solemnly, her unblinking gaze never leaving him for a second.

"Hello, Luna-moth. What's the matter?" Nick took his eyes off the baby for a second to concentrate on Luna. "I'm not angry with you. I know you're not the person to blame for this mess."

"I know you're not angry with me, Nicholas. Melinda doesn't know that, though. She's terribly upset." Luna cocked her head to one side, for all the world like a little owl. "She thinks you won't want anything more to do with her."

"Not want anything more to do with her?" Nick was astonished. "_That's _about as likely as poor old Snape getting married!"

At this, Snape's eyes went wide, and Caitlin put her hand over her mouth. From where they were standing, they could see and hear Nick clearly, but he didn't know they were there. Marlie sat up straight and quit pretending she was asleep---the adults weren't paying her any attention. _I wouldn't miss _this _for the salvation of mankind_, she thought gleefully.

"Why do you call him '_poor_ old Snape?'" asked Luna.

"Stands to reason, doesn't it? Who ever heard of a teacher who made any money?" At this, Snape nodded silently to Caitlin.

"Why do you think Snape is old, anyway, Nick?" This came from one of the Hufflepuff girls.

Nick sounded honestly shocked. "He had a grandson or something of the sort who was a firstie and second-year when my mum was in her last two years here! The name was the same, but the description doesn't fit at all! _That_ 'Severus Snape' was 'as cute as a bug's ear,' to hear Mum tell it, with big soulful dark eyes, skin as smooth as silk, and beautiful black hair. She'd grab him and give him a 'Sevvy-smooch' whenever he wandered into range, just because she thought he was _so_ adorable."

At this, Caitlin scowled, while Snape smiled reminiscently. Marlie wanted to hug herself with glee. _This was getting better and better_! Meanwhile, Luna was absorbing every word Nick said, her expression as solemn as ever.

Nick continued: "Besides, I've photographic proof here. Look at this, Luna." He pulled a book out of his book bag. Leaning closer, Marlie could make out the title: _The Last Tsar---Life At The Russian Imperial Court Under Nicholas II._ Nick opened the book. "See this? Take the beard off, and it's our Professor Snape, to the life! I know it says he was killed, but we all know lots of ways to fool Muggles, don't we?"

"Oh! I see!" Luna took the book and began leafing through. "But in that case, why is his hair so black now?"

Nick sighed. "Look, the man's a Potions Master---how difficult do you think it would be for him to be a 'suicide brunette?'" Luna looked up, startled at Nick's choice of words. "'Dyed by his own hand,' get it?" After a brief pause, Luna plainly saw it---she let out a whoop of laughter.

Nick went on: "_That's_ why I tell the Ravenclaw girls to keep themselves well-covered around him. When he was _our_ age, a girl showing her ankle was a Major Catastrophe, and even married women never let their husbands see them in as little as we wear now. If he were to see the bathing suits they wear, I'm afraid his mind would short-circuit and his brain would melt, to dribble out of his ears and make gray puddles like melted wax on both of his shoulders. _Then _we'd be needing a new Potions teacher, and although I revere Dumbledore, our beloved Headmaster's no shakes at all at personnel. If Lockhart, or someone like that, were teaching Potions, they'd be scraping us all off the walls!"

Standing up, Nick took Luna by the hand. "Come on, Luna. Let's collect Thorkil from his admirers, and go find Melinda. I know she's sorry, and I want to let her know she's forgiven." With that, the Ravenclaws moved out of sight and hearing range.

Once they were gone, Caitlin began to giggle. Snape gave her a Glare of Doom. "This isn't funny, Caitlin! This _isn't funny_! Stop _laughing_!" When that did no good, he growled: "Oh, the next time Mr. Cleveland puts a _finger_ wrong in Potions, he's _mine_…"

Caitlin looped her arm through his. "Come on. Let's go find a nice drink. That'll do both of our aged selves some good." At that, Snape snickered involuntarily, and led her off. "Thought that would do it," Caitlin commented. As they walked away, Marlie could hear her: "The day you don't respond to the idea of a drink, Severus, I'll know you're having a real live Senior Moment…"

Once she was unobserved, Marlie turned back into human form, and ran for the Slytherin dorms. _Just wait 'til my friends hear_ this _one_, she thought gleefully. _Not to mention _Sirius_! When Cleveland goes wrong, he really,_ really _goes wrong_…

Sure enough, when Marlie took the chance to slip out to the Shrieking Shack and tell Sirius about Nick's misinterpretations of the evidence, Sirius' eyes went wider and wider, until he let out a whoop of laughter and fell back on his cot.

When he had himself under control, Sirius asked: "Let me see if I have this straight. This is the same 'Nick Cleveland' you've mentioned before---Ravenclaw with a real Slytherin streak? The one with the jealous Chinese girlfriend?"

"That's the one. This isn't usual for him---normally, he's as sharp as they come, and you have to start out really early in the morning to have any chance of pulling one over on him. And, once you've done it, you'd better watch out for a long, long time."

"I never thought I'd say this, but poor old Severus," mused Sirius, his eyes dancing with rather malicious amusement. "I'd bet that really, really deflated him!"

"He wasn't happy at all. I wouldn't want to be in Nick's moccasins, next time he's in Potions. I have a feeling that Snape'll have him on detention if he so much as breathes wrong!"

"Aye, well, detention's not so bad," said Sirius, stretching out and smiling reminiscently. "Back in the day, James and I spent so much time on detention that we were discussing declaring that to be a separate House. The colors would be black and blue, and the house emblem would be a clown's face. Or a jackass---even we admitted that some of the stunts we pulled were stupid. Fun, but stupid."

"And the house ghost?"

"Peeves---who else?"

That evening, Marlie was prowling around in cat-form again, keeping her eyes wide open for a certain rat, when she ran across Snape. He had Nick Cleveland in tow, and was clearly escorting him back to the Ravenclaw common-room---the library was closed for the evening, but Snape had a key.

Nick's expression was murderous, but he kept his silence as he stalked along in Snape's wake. When they arrived at the library, Snape let Nick in, and Marlie slipped in behind him. Nick went to a section of bookshelves that Marlie knew hid the door to the Ravenclaw common room and muttered a password, opening the shelves to let him in. He was angry enough that Marlie had no trouble slipping in on his heels.

There were several Ravenclaws up, Melinda and Luna among them. Melinda looked up from where she was playing with little Thorkil. "You're back! How was detention, Nick?"

"_I_…have never been so _humiliated_…in all my _life_!" snarled Nick. "I cannot bloody _believe _what I've been through tonight!"

This sounded very interesting. _What did Snape do to Nick?_ Marlie wondered. Normally, the Ravenclaw was very controlled; this sort of display of temper was quite uncharacteristic. She sneaked forward, using the furniture as cover, to get a better vantage-point. Nobody was paying attention to her; they were all either absorbed with Thorkil, who was lying on his back cooing as Su Li drew pictures in the air with her wand over his head, or watching Nick and Melinda.

"Humiliated?" Luna came forward, settling down beside Nick on the settee he had claimed. Melinda sat down on Nick's other side, and put her arm around his shoulders. "How did Professor Snape humiliate you, Nicholas?"

"Oh, it wasn't Snape's direct doing, Luna-moth," Nick grumbled, relaxing slightly as Melinda rubbed his back. "He had me doing detention with Filch…and you know what _that_ means, don't you?"

"Chess?"

"You're right, little one." Nick scowled. "I swear, that man is a sadist! He enjoys tormenting me!" As he spoke, Nick began gesturing, illustrating what he was trying to say. "He's always glad to see me, mostly because whenever I'm down there, we play chess…and he's never forgiven me for underestimating him, that first game we played, long ago. He'll let me think that I'm going to win, and then…_bam_!" Nick's fist came down as though on an imaginary chessboard. "I've beaten him, but never more than once in an evening. I swear I'm going to beat that old man three games in a row, fair and square, before I leave this bloody place. If I wasn't already being run raggedy with all that tutoring Dumbledore assigned me, I'd haul out my practice board and _really _study the game!"

"Maybe Snape did that to you on purpose, Nick," Melinda ventured. "I think he thinks you're a bit arrogant sometimes. Not that you don't have good reasons to be…" she trailed off as Nick raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"That might be, Melinda. He did say that the popskull we distilled that one time wasn't as good as he'd have expected. How would _he_ bloody well know about distillation? When he was _our_ age, all they had to drink was wine, mead, ale and beer, after all."

Under the settee, Marlie squirmed with glee. _If I could get him to repeat _that _to Snape_, or _in his presence…_ She gave a meow of pleasure.

Melinda looked under the settee. "Why, look at this! What a beautiful, _gorgeous_ kitty-cat! Come here, Moggy---let Auntie Melinda have a look at you!" Before she quite knew what had happened, Marlie found herself hauled out from her hiding place and held on Melinda's lap. "You're so cute---I can't believe I haven't noticed you before! I wonder whose you are?"

Nick had his wand out. "Hmmm---no ownership charm. That is a pretty cat, I have to admit. Of course, she's almost all white, and she's busily shedding all over your black robes."

"So she is." Melinda produced an ivory comb. "Let's see how this helps." Marlie was soon being gently and efficiently combed; the sensation was quite pleasant, and she stretched out, purring loudly. _This is the life…being waited on, hand and foot! I may never go back to being a girl again_!

"You do love cats, Melinda," observed Luna. She reached out and scratched Marlie behind the ears. "I think you like them because they're innocent and merciless. Like you."

"Merciless I may be, dear---but _innocent_?" The look Melinda gave Luna was full of mischief. "Ask Nick about that. Or, on second thought, don't---he might just answer."

"That is really a nice cat, Melinda." Pat Chisholm had come over to view their feline guest; she had been laughing at the way little Thorkil smiled at Su Li's pictures. "I'd love to keep her, but someone's probably looking for her."

"You're right, Pat," said Nick. "I'd be perfectly willing to give her a good home, but I'd feel terrible if I found I was keeping someone else's pet."

"How much longer is Thorkil going to be staying with us?" asked Will Marshall. He had been rolling around on the floor with the baby, heedless of dignity. "I have to say, he's been fun."

"Till tomorrow. It's a Hogsmeade day anyway, so I'll take him down and hand him back then."

"I thought you were forbidden to go to Hogsmeade, after you flew out of here to Little Whinging," commented Melinda. "I can understand why you did it, but honestly, Nick, that sort of impulsive behavior's just like a---a bloody _Gryffindor_, for Buddha's sake!"

"For this, I have permission. I'll have to have a prefect with me---and they said it couldn't be a Ravenclaw. Apparently I'm 'too much of a leader to my schoolmates,' if you can credit _that_, and the Powers that Be are afraid that I'd lead my innocent housemates down the primrose path into the bowels of El Diablo."

"So who are you going to have escorting you?" Melinda had kept on combing Marlie's coat, and Marlie stretched and purred loudly. "Yes, you are such a sweet cat. Look at that pretty face," as she raised Marlie up so that they were face-to-face. For a second, Marlie thought about changing back to human form, but quickly decided that startling someone as volatile and dangerous as Melinda Yang was a _very_ bad idea. Melinda held Marlie close, stroking her as Marlie squeezed her eyes shut and purred some more.

"Don't know. I'll probably ask one of the Slytherin prefects. They're on to most of my tricks, and right now, between being in Snape's doghouse for no reason I can figure out and still being in semi-disgrace for my little expedition, I figure that I need to show that I'm trustable."

"You shouldn't be angry at Snape," murmured Melinda. "In China, we revere elders. At his age, people become very cranky."

With that, Marlie jumped off Melinda's lap and began pacing up and down in front of the door. She really wanted to return to her friends---and to find a litter box!

The next day, Nick was sitting at the Three Broomsticks. Luella Martin was not far away; she had been detailed for escort duty after Marlie had given her friends a heads-up about Nick needing one. Deanna was going to be busy, and Rianne was swamped with homework, so Luella volunteered.

Nick was at a table near the centre of the room, nursing a butterbeer, with Thorkil on the table in a basket. A jingle at the door announced that someone had come in, and Luella looked up. Instead of Thorkil's parents, she was shocked to see Narcissa Malfoy. Instinctively, she drew Glamoury around herself, hiding; she didn't fear Madame Malfoy, but where she was, her husband wasn't usually far away.

Narcissa didn't notice Luella, though. Her attention had been captured by the sight of little Thorkil in his basket, giggling and trying to grab some glowing magical balls Nick had conjured up, dangling just out of his reach. Nick only noticed her when her involuntary "Oh!" of delight caught his attention.

"Hullo." Polite as ever, Nick jumped to his feet and pulled out a chair. "Please, have a seat. I'd be honoured if you'd join me. We're waiting for the little guy's parents to pick him up. They've been here in Hogsmeade at a conference, and I've been minding the little one."

"You? But you're a Hogwarts student, aren't you?" Narcissa leaned over the basket, smiling at Thorkil, who smiled back and reached for the locks of her yellow hair that dangled closest to his reach. "How can you do that at Hogwarts?"

"With great difficulty, I assure you." Nick smiled ruefully. "My female housemates all but appropriated him. I just about had to submit a written application, in quintuplicate, to be let near him!"

Narcissa laughed. "Well---he's so cute, I can't blame them a bit." She looked at Nick narrowly as she sat down. "You look awfully familiar---do I know you?"

Nick shrugged his shoulders. "I was in the wizarding press a while ago. Some things I did with brooms. My name's Cleveland---Nick Cleveland." Narcissa's eyes went wide, as Nick went on: "And I can tell who _you _are. You're Draco Malfoy's older sister. The resemblance is unmistakable; it's just that on you, it looks good."

"Really?" Narcissa gave Nick a big smile, as Luella tried to suppress a giggle. "Why, how nice! Are you one of Draco's friends?"

"Not as such. We're three years apart and in different Houses. If he'd made it into the elite house, I might have taken him under my wing. He's a pretty good flier, I've got to admit. "

"_Hang_ on…" Narcissa suddenly narrowed her eyes. "I remember what you did! You set the altitude and speed records on brooms!" Nick nodded. "Do you play Quidditch?" At Nick's headshake, Narcissa's eyes went wide with shock. "When I was in Slytherin, anybody who did what you did would be on the Quidditch team for sure!"

"You sound like my Mum. She was Slytherin, back in the day. Got myself sent a Howler when I Sorted Ravenclaw; she'd set her heart on her eldest in green and white." Nick grinned wickedly. "You might've heard of her. Grace Forrest was her name then. She was a prefect and later on Head Girl, and a right old tartar. She had Slytherin House goose-stepping, from what people tell me."

"So she did." Cooing, Narcissa lifted Thorkil out of his basket, after looking at Nick and getting a quick nod. "Oh, you're such a lovely baby! I can't blame your housemates for wanting to keep him, Nick!"

"Neither can I. I'm quite in favour of him. Even so, when the girls snuck into my dorm and winkled him out of his cot, they gave me a terrible turn when I woke up and found him gone."

"I can imagine! Losing this little one---" Narcissa suddenly looked very sad. "I lost a daughter, and it was the most awful thing that's ever happened to me."

Nick looked stricken. "Oh, I didn't mean to bring up sad memories!"

"Not your fault." Narcissa visibly chose to change the subject. "So how did you care for _this_ little bundle when you had classes to go to?"

"Easily enough. I brought him along. He can creep about fairly well, but can't walk yet, thank all the gods, so keeping him contained wasn't too much trouble. The expression on Professor McGonagall's face when she realized what I'd brought along was utterly priceless!" Nick chuckled reminiscently. "She was all over him in a second, talking Scots baby-talk." He gave Narcissa a rather smug grin. "My teachers were quite impressed with the work-arounds I'd come up with, like Transfiguring formula into water so I could mix up a whole day's worth at a time and carry it about without worrying about it going off, or the self-cleaning nappies I'd invented. I got points for Ravenclaw for those!"

"_Self-_cleaning _nappies_?" Narcissa looked at Nick, wide-eyed. "Where in the world were you when _I_ had nappies to deal with?"

Just then, Melinda came in, reflexively scowling to see Nick talking with a strange, attractive woman. "Oh, hi, Melinda! Look what I found! This is Draco Malfoy's---"

"Mum!"

Draco had been right behind Melinda. At his outburst, Nick looked around, visibly puzzled. "Is your mother here, too? Your sister and I have been having a lovely chat."

"No, that's my _mum_!" Draco scurried over to Narcissa. "Is he bothering you, Mum? If he is, I'll---" He glared at Nick, fingering his wand, as Nick's eyes went wide.

"Your _step_mother, surely? But the resemblance is definitely there…" Nick trailed off as Narcissa drew Draco close.

"No, dear, I'm his _mother_ mother, not his stepmother. I carried him in my body for nine months," Narcissa explained gently. "Draco, darling, calm _down_. He's been a perfect gentleman. Your father himself couldn't have faulted his behaviour."

At this, Melinda visibly calmed herself, although Luella could see that she was still less than pleased. "Oh, please, forgive me, Madame Malfoy!" Nick cried. "All I can say in my own defence is that it's an easy mistake to make! How was I to know?"

"You're forgiven, dear---and please, don't _ever_ get glasses. I like you just the way you are." Narcissa looked curiously at Melinda. "Who is this, Draco?"

"That's Melinda Yang, Nick's girlfriend. We ran across each other when we were both buying surprises for Luna Lovegood. Melinda and Nick have taken her under their wings---she's the girl I was telling you about, the one who was having a bad time."

"Oh! That was very sweet of you---both of you." Narcissa looked closely at Melinda. "Why are you scowling so, dear? Is something wrong?"

"Melinda's very jealous, Mum---she's famous for it. She's the one who tore Marls up so badly." As Narcissa frowned ominously, Draco hastened to explain: "Marls _had_ been chasing Nick all over the castle, and there were serious extenuating circumstances,. She came back fresh from surviving captivity with the Tcho-Tcho, and Nick couldn't intercept her before she caught up to Marls."

"She was _in the hands of the Tcho-Tcho_---and they sent her back to school _unrecovered_?" Narcissa's eyes opened wide with horror. "That does count as extenuating circumstances! But why was she in their hands in the first place?"

"This person is the unworthy descendant of Fu Renjie, albeit of a cadet branch," Melinda explained. "When the call went out, all rallied to the clan banner, even this unworthy person."

"Oh. Oh!" Narcissa paled. "I know of Fu Renjie! How is it that you're here?" As Melinda began to explain why she was at Hogwarts, instead of a Far Eastern school, the front door jingled and Nick looked up.

"There's Thorkil's mummy, looking for her little boy! Hi, Cousin Ingeborg!" Draco looked up, curious, and his eyes went wide. Thorkil's mother was beautiful, with waist-length blonde hair and classic Nordic features, as well as a figure that any woman would have wanted to have. As Nick got up to greet them, Draco joined him.

_Helloooo, __nurse_ Luella thought behind her Glamoury, as Nick found himself introducing Draco to his cousin Ingeborg and her husband, Atli. Draco was displaying his most charming side, and Ingeborg was quite taken with him; she invited him to come sit with her as she quizzed Nick about Thorkil's stay at Hogwarts.

"So you say that he was no trouble at all, Nick? Really? Your classmates all helped out?"

"Sure did, cousin. Matter of fact, my girl housemates liked the little fellow so much they snaffled him out of my dorm room so they could keep him overnight. He's lived the dream of every Ravenclaw boy since the Founding---to spend a night in the girls' dorms."

Ingeborg laughed. "I'm glad to hear they loved him, but I'll bet you had a nasty turn when you woke up to find him gone!"

Nick shrugged. "I did, at that. Before I found out where he'd gone, I'd alerted Dumbledore and Flitwick, and had Filch lock down the whole castle! I was sure that Sirius Black had carried him off and we'd never see him again---and that you'd kill me for losing him!"

"I _would_ have, if he'd _really_ been lost." For a second, Ingeborg's blue eyes were as cold as ice, before she smiled again. "Whatever made you think of Sirius Black? Why would he want a baby?"

"Don't ask me! How do _I_ know what some madman thinks?"

Ingeborg reached out and playfully touched the end of Nick's nose. Draco looked envious for a second. "Well, dear, you do have more talent at thinking your way into someone else's shoes than anybody I've ever met. I was talking to this nice Mrs. Lovegood---she works in the Department of Dark Arts Eradication at the Ministry---and she told me that after you leave Hogwarts, she plans to make you a job offer."

Nick smiled. "That'd be wonderful, although I thought I'd end up making fancy custom brooms."

For several minutes, Nick and Ingeborg got caught up on family business, while Draco stared at Ingeborg as though she were a Veela doing a striptease. Ingeborg was obviously aware of his interest, but chose to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary, even though Draco was all but drooling.

Finally, it was over, and Ingeborg and Atli left, with Thorkil cradled safely in his mum's arms, a contented look on his face. When Nick and Draco went to rejoin Melinda and Narcissa, they found that the two women had hit it off; they were deep in comparison of their men.

"This doesn't look good, Draco," muttered Nick, as Melinda happily showed Narcissa some photos she'd taken; Narcissa laughed at one showing Nick in an easy chair, with Luna snuggled on top of him as he went over some homework with her. "The women in our lives are comparing notes."

"I've got a Filibuster's firecracker or two in my pockets, Nick," Draco murmured, as Narcissa admired the picture. "I can light one and throw it, and we can escape in the confusion."

"Wouldn't work, I'm afraid," Nick answered. "They love us too much. They'd track us down. We couldn't run forever."

"So we might as well face the music," Draco concluded, as they got chairs and sat back down.

Narcissa turned a beaming smile on Nick. "Nick, Melinda was telling me about how good you are to little Luna. You too, Draco. I'm very pleased to hear that you're so concerned for her."

"Oh, Draco's really quite chivalrous." Melinda opened her bookbag and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. "I have a bit of artistic talent, and drew this picture to illustrate what it would be like if all of us were around when Luna gets interested in boys."

Narcissa, Nick and Draco looked at the picture, while Luella peered over Draco's shoulder. It depicted Luna, sitting at what had to be Madam Puddifoot's, happily holding the hand of a rather generically-drawn boy. The boy didn't look terribly happy, but that could have been because on one side of him, Nick and Melinda were sitting side-by-side and glowering daggers at him with their arms crossed over their chests, while on his other side, Draco was leering threateningly and fingering his wand, while Crabbe and Goyle loomed behind him, polishing brass knuckle-dusters.

"That looks different from the other one you drew, Melinda," observed Nick. "The other one just had you and me in it, as well as Luna-and-boy."

"Oh, Mrs. Lovegood---Marlie's mother---liked that one so much, I just gave it to her. Besides, I wanted to draw a version with Draco in it. It's my way of saying sorry to him for that other picture I drew." Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow, and Melinda explained: "I drew a picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and drew Draco looking like a house-elf. When the Slytherins asked why, I said that since he flew like a house-elf, he should look like one." She shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't know him as well then as I do now, and Nick says I was wrong. He's the expert, so I trust his opinion."

"As well you should. Come, Draco, it's time to go. Your father's waiting for us at the Gringott's branch here." As she made ready to leave, Narcissa asked: "Could I have a private word with you for a moment, Miss Yang?"

Curiosity won out easily over good manners, as Luella moved closer; Nick, polite as always, moved off across the room, Draco in tow, as they headed toward the counter to order some fresh drinks. In a low voice, Narcissa told Melinda, her blue eyes icy and her voice deadly calm: "First off---speaking as Marlene Lovegood's aunt, I'm warning you that if you _ever_ hurt her again, I _will_ make taking you down my goal in life; I don't care _who_ your relations are or how scary they are. I accept that you weren't in your sane senses then, but you've had your bite at the apple. _Understand_?" Melinda nodded. Satisfied that she'd made her point, Narcissa smiled conspiratorially. "Secondly, a bit of advice, woman-to-woman. If you ever let that charming boyfriend of yours go, I'll see to it that you go straight to St. Mungo's mental wards, because I'll know that you're insane!"

"Understood on both points, ma'am." Melinda smiled. "Believe me, nothing you could think of compared with what my conscience did to me over Marlie---and I know full well that if I let Nick go, some cow or other'll have her claws in him about five minutes later." The two women parted company, and Melinda moved over to join Nick, as Draco left with his mother.

Looking around, but unable to see or sense Luella behind her Glamoury, Melinda muttered: "And just what, Nick Cleveland, are you up to this time?" Nick's innocent look seemed to irk her; she went on in a low snarl: "I know you know perfectly well who Madame Malfoy is! We've both seen her on Platform 9 ¾ many times, with her husband and son! What possessed you to pretend you thought she was Draco's sister, anyway?"

Nick smiled. "Well, it's really very simple. Even though Mr. Malfoy's star isn't as high as it was, the Malfoys are wealthy and influential, and having them in my corner can't hurt me---unless I swear allegiance to them or some similar daft thing. I figure that if Madame Malfoy's well-disposed to me, that could be useful some time or other." He winked. "And can you honestly tell me that I could go wrong by letting a woman believe I think she's younger than she is?"

"I'll never, never understand Westerners," grumbled Melinda, as she looped her arm through Nick's and began to tow him back to school. "In China, you claim the greatest age you can, for status."

That evening, Ravenclaw's Common Room was a gloomy place. Melinda and Luna were idly playing with some blocks they'd assembled for Thorkil. Most of the rest of the Ravenclaw girls were visibly moping, and the boys were no cheerier.

Cho finally broke the thick silence. "I miss the little fellow."

"Yeah, so do I," said Penny Clearwater. "He really livened this place up a lot."

"Well, in one way, I'm kind of glad he's gone," put in Anthony Goldstein. "Did you hear about the fight that nearly broke out?"

"No! What fight? How could he have started a fight?" The questions came, thick and fast. Anthony held up a hand.

"Some of the Gryffindor girls were saying that they were looking forward to the day he was Sorted, since they were sure he'd be a Gryff. The Slytherins heard that, and, of course, you know how well Gryffindors and Slytherins get along. Then the Hufflepuffs put in a claim, and before long, it looked like a four-sided fight was brewing. Right about then, Dumbledore appeared, and managed to defuse things, and then everybody had to go to class."

"Hang on," said Pat Chisholm. "You said four-sided fight, but you only mentioned three sides. What about the Ravenclaws? Were we represented?"

"I never thought I'd see it, but Cho Chang and Melinda Yang were both about to wade in, side by side. They weren't right there, but just beside me; I was on a balcony overlooking the Great Hall, which is where this went down."

"Darling---I may dislike Cho, and she me, but we're both Ravenclaws. In any case, letting such a wonderful little guy be wasted on any other House would be a crime."

"Why don't we wait and let the Sorting Hat do its thing, ten years or so down the road? In the meantime, let's get back to work." With that, Nick Cleveland opened up a book, and the Ravenclaws bent to their studies.

THE END


End file.
